


I Love My Werewolf Boyfriend

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Series: To the Moon and Back: Werewolf Mickey [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: “What's wrong?” he asks, voice soft and serious. Mickey doesn't look at him. “Mickey.”“Just.” Mickey sighs. He looks at the ceiling, avoiding Ian's eyes. “Don't you see it every time you look at me now?”“What?”“The... change. How can you wanna touch me after you've seen that?"





	I Love My Werewolf Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awkwardblogger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardblogger/gifts), [Mrs_Monaghan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Monaghan/gifts).



> awkwardblogger wanted Mickey having insecurities about being a werewolf/having a bad day and Ian making him feel better.  
> LuckyShaz wanted smut,

“Hey, is that Mickey?”

“It is!”

“Mick!”

“Hey, Mickey!”

Ian looks up at the two guys calling at Mickey from across the street, an amused smile turning the corner of his lip up when he spots them.

“Those your brothers?”

“Yeah.” Mickey sighs.

“You want me to let go of your hand?”

“Fuck no. Dad's already seen us together, I don't care what those assholes think.” Mickey's fingers tighten around Ian's, holding like a lifeline. Ian squeezes back, softer.

“We ain't seen you in forever, man,” Iggy says, crossing the road towards them.

“Yeah,” says Colin, behind him. “We were startin' to worry they'd stuck you in the pound or somethin'.”

Both boys snigger. Mickey rolls his eyes, but Ian notices his stance stiffen beside him. He also notices how Mickey angles himself between Ian and his brothers, protective.

“Very funny, assholes.”

“Who's this?” Colin nods towards Ian. Iggy's eyes have dropped to their joined hands.

“You get yourself a boyfriend, Mick?” He doesn't sound surprised, just curious. His gaze flicks back up to meet Ian's. There's something wild about his smile, and Ian would have no trouble believing he was the wolf if he didn't know better.

“The fuck does it matter to you,” Mickey says, dragging his thumb along his bottom lip. “Dad say anything 'bout me?”

“Nah,” says Colin. “But someone fucked him up last full moon. He ain't too happy about that.”

Ian and Mickey share a look.

“Shit,” Iggy says, slack jawed in shock. “You do that?”

“You better look out. He's gonna be out for blood.”

“I can look after myself, thanks.”

“He'll be in the dog house now.” Iggy snorts.

“That was shit.”

“We've gotta go,” Mickey says, tugging Ian's hand. “C'mon.”

“See ya around, Mick.” Iggy waves after them. Ian raises his hand in a brief wave.

“Don't fuckin' wave at them.”

“Don't get your tail in a twist.” Ian laughs as Mickey punches his arm, tugging him in to press a kiss to his cheek. Mickey softens, a brief smile flashing across his face before he fights it down again. “You worried about your dad?”

“We should be okay for a while. I beat him. He won't challenge me again until he's recovered.”

“That wasn't an answer.”

Mickey averts his eyes, frowning.

“Mick. Tell me the truth.”

“Yes, okay? I'm fuckin' worried. Not about me. I'm used to him. I'm worried he's gonna try an' hurt you. Sometime I'm not there.”

“I'll be fine. I do actually do a good job of lookin' after myself, believe it or not.”

“You dunno what my dad's capable of.” Mickey sighs. He drags his hand back through his hair.

“I've heard the stories.”

“Just... Be careful. And if you see him, stay outta his way, alright?”

“Alright.” Ian stops at the foot of the stairs to the El. He turns to Mickey, resting his hands on his waist. Mickey's eyes flick around, scanning for observers, before he tugs Ian down and kisses him, firm but sweet.

“Have a good day.”

“You too. I'll see you at six.”

“And-”

“Be careful. I know.”

*

“Oh, for fuck sake. Just, piss off already.” Mickey scowls, turning to the trio of dogs trailing behind them. He stamps his foot towards them. They scatter, but stay close.

“It's okay. They're not doin' any harm.” Ian takes his arm and gently turns him away from them.

“I'm not in the mood for fuckin' puppy parade, today.”

“I love puppy parade,” Ian says softly, rubbing circles on Mickey's hand with his thumb. Mickey glares at him. “We'll be home in a few minutes. Tell me about your day.”

“I got caught in the rain on the way to work and Dylon kept makin' comments about the garage smellin' like wet dog all day.”

“Does he know?”

“No. He didn't know it was me, but...”

“It annoyed you?”

Mickey shrugs. Ian knows that means yes. He squeezes Mickey's hand.

“Well, I love the way you smell.” He smiles, lopsided, and leans in to breathe the scent of Mickey. There is a hint of wet dog; undertones of the heady wolf smell mixed with human sweat, oil, and the musky deodorant Mickey uses. It makes Ian's stomach tingle, makes heat pool between his hips. He moans, quiet enough for only Mickey to hear. Mickey elbows him in the ribs. “I do.”

“Weirdo,” Mickey says, but the crease between his eyebrows has gone. Ian counts that as a win.

*

Mickey hesitates in the door of their bedroom when he sees Ian sitting on the bed. He's still damp from the shower, skin flushed, a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes drop when Ian glances up. He folds his arms over his ribs. After a moment, he seems to realise he needs to come in to get clothes, and shuffles his way into the room.

Ian moves down the bed on his knees and presses a kiss to the warm skin of Mickey's shoulder. He licks a stray drop of water from his neck. Mickey squirms away.

“Cut it out.”

“Why?”

“I'm tryna get dressed.”

“Don't.” Ian curls his arms around Mickey's waist. “Save me the bother of undressing you.”

“Ian.”

“Mick.”

“Stop.”

Ian goes still. Slowly, he loosens his arms from around Mickey's waist.

“What's wrong?” he asks, voice soft and serious. Mickey doesn't look at him. “Mickey.”

“Just.” Mickey sighs. He looks at the ceiling, avoiding Ian's eyes. “Don't you see it every time you look at me now?”

“What?”

“The... change. How can you wanna touch me after you've seen that? It's fuckin' disgusting.”

“Mickey.” Ian frowns. He takes Mickey's face in his hands. “You could never be disgusting to me. Well, I mean, nobody needs such a ridiculous amount of syrup- But, appearance wise, you could never disgust me.”

Mickey scowls at him. Disbelieving.

“I mean it. And, yeah, it was kinda horrific, but more because I care about you and I hate thinkin' what kind of pain that must have put you through. That's not what I see when I look at you. That's not what I'm seein' now.”

“So what are you seein'?” Mickey's tone is sullen, defeated. Ian strokes his thumbs along Mickey's cheeks.

“I'm seein' the hot piece of werewolf ass I fell for.” He smirks, cheeky and lopsided, and Mickey huffs a laugh. The tenseness slowly drains from his shoulders and he leans in, allows Ian to kiss him. “So are you gonna come let me make sweet love to you or what?”

“You call it that again I ain't comin' near you for a week.”

Ian snorts, but pulls Mickey's towel loose. It pools around his feet. Ian presses his lips to the centre of Mickey's chest and kisses upward. Mickey's head tips back as Ian's lips ghost over his neck, mouth opening over his pulse point and tongue drumming a firm rhythm against it. Mickey moans, soft, and his dick starts to harden. Ian trails his fingers along the length of it, teasing, feeling it twitch beneath his touch. By the time he reaches Mickey's plush lips, he's fully hard against Ian's palm. Ian strokes him in long, slow strokes, Mickey's hips pressing forward into the touch.

He curls an arm around Mickey's lower back and pulls him forward, flipping them as they go down so Mickey's back hits the bed. Arm still around his waist, Ian uses it to lift him up the bed. He presses his own swelling erection against Mickey's thigh. Mickey's arms wrap around his neck. Ian kisses him again, briefly, before he's ducking his head down to lick at a nipple. Mickey exhales sharply, his chest arching up against Ian's mouth. Ian thumbs at the other nipple, before he swaps, kissing across to lick it and thumbing at the one he's left saliva damp. Once they're both slick, red, and erect, he mouths his way down Mickey's tummy, nuzzling his nose at the ticklish spots until Mickey swats him away, laughing.

“Cut it out.”

Ian grins up at him. He nips playfully at the soft skin, before nosing down along the coarse hair of Mickey's happy trail. He takes a while to tease Mickey; kissing around his thighs, nipping at the soft skin with his teeth, licking his way up to the crease, but never reaching his dick. Mickey is squirming above him, hands in Ian's hair trying to direct him to his cock.

“You get fuckin' lost down there or somethin'?”

Ian just sucks another bruise into the pale flesh of his thigh. When he does come to Mickey's cock, he just blows over it first. Mickey groans in annoyance. Ian smirks, looks up at him through his lashes, and drags his tongue from the base of his cock all the way up to circle around the tip. Mickey's hips try to buck, but Ian's holding them down, his palms moulded to the shape of Mickey's hip bones. He holds eye contact as he parts his lips and slides his mouth down over Mickey's cock, until Mickey's head falls back in pleasure. Ian hollows his cheeks and bobs his head a few times before coming away with a pop.

“Lube?”

Mickey fumbles at the drawer, then throws the bottle at Ian's head. Ian catches it and laughs. He slicks up his fingers and settles back between Mickey's thighs. Mickey's cock is in his mouth again as he drags the first finger over his hole. Mickey tries to press down against it. Ian waits until he's still before he slowly presses it in. Mickey whines. Ian curls his finger and rubs against Mickey's prostate, chuckling around him when Mickey's hips jerk in response.

“Any chance we could speed this up, chuckles?” Mickey's voice is gruff, hoarse, fuckin' delightful.

“Where's the fun in that?” Ian raises an eyebrow and licks his already saliva damp lips.

“Fun is me not comin' down your fuckin' throat before you get on me.”

“So bossy. So wanton.” Ian pulls out and presses two fingers in, feeling more of a stretch this time. Mickey hisses, eyes screwing shut.

“Wanton. That on your fuckin' Word of the Day toilet paper?”

“Like we have money to waste on Word of the Day toilet paper.”

Any no doubt witty retort Mickey has is lost to an exhale as Ian's two fingers press deep, curling inside him. He takes longer with two, slowly fucking Mickey open with them, only swiping little licks over his cock now so as not to get him too close. Once Mickey's rolling his hips down against his fingers, Ian moves up to three, wriggling them as they slide in. Mickey bites his lower lip, his head back against the pillows, the line of his throat stretched taut and inviting.

“So fuckin' hot. Dunno how you think you're anything less,” Ian says, pressing firm kisses to any part of Mickey's skin he can reach; his thigh, his hip, his stomach, over his ribs. Mickey's lashes flutter. “Get me so hard. Drive me fuckin' mad with want.”

“Ian.”

“Yeah, Mick. Soon. Just getting you nice and ready for me. Nice and stretched out and ready to take my cock.”

“Want it.”

“Soon.”

“Want it now.”

“ _Soon._ ” Ian presses his fingers in fast and hard, silent reprimand for Mickey's impatience. He whimpers and wriggles down against them. Flushed, his bitten lip dark and swollen, his pupils blown wide. Ian's cock aches just looking at him. He ruts against the sheets to take the edge off as he suckles at the tip of Mickey's cock, slowly drawing his fingers out.

“Get on me.”

“Okay, Mickey. Gonna fuck you so good. Gonna show you how hot I think you are.”

Mickey just gropes at his shoulders as Ian moves to kneel over him. His tongue presses at the corner of his mouth, watching hungrily as Ian slicks his hand and slowly jerks his cock a few times, spreading lube along the length of it. Mickey spreads his legs even further, invitingly, and Ian can't help but smirk. He hooks one of his thighs over his arm and uses his other hand to line up his cock. The push in is slow; it always is. Even with a good amount of prep, it's always a stretch when he first presses in to Mickey, but they both fucking love it, moaning together as he sinks in inch by inch. Mickey's panting by the time Ian's hips are flush with his ass. Ian ducks down to lick between his parted lips, dragging his tongue along Mickey's. Mickey presses back, firm and demanding, forcing his way into Ian's mouth. Ian laughs into the kiss, nips Mickey's lower lip as he moves back and starts to pull out.

The first minute is slow, warming up, letting Mickey adapt to the feel of him. Mickey's arms stay around Ian's neck, fingers playing with the base of his hair. Ian strokes his thumb over Mickey's thigh, his other arm holding himself up.

“Love your fuckin' ass. So hot and tight and perfect.”

“Dunno if I'm tight or it's just how fuckin' huge your cock is. Monster Dong Gallagher.”

Ian snorts a laugh, burying his face in Mickey's neck, nuzzling and lapping sweat from the curve of his throat. He inhales deep, breathing in the scent of him, and hums in satisfaction. Mickey wraps his legs around Ian's waist, and Ian uses his now free hand to thumb at Mickey's nipple, causing him to squirm beneath him.

“Harder,” he says, breathless. Ian obliges. It's not long before the bed springs are squeaking in protest as he fucks hard and fast into Mickey, dropping sloppy, open mouthed kisses against his lips when he can. They're both breathing heavy, flushed and sweaty, their soft grunts filling the space between them.

“Touch yourself,” Ian murmurs, noses rubbing against Mickey's. “Wanna see your hand on your cock.”

Mickey reaches down, tattooed fingers encircling his cock. He watches Ian as he strokes himself off, until he starts to get close, then his eyes flutter shut in pleasure and he pants, open mouthed. Ian feels familiar warmth building in his stomach, tries to hold it off until Mickey comes, but the sight combined with the feel of Mickey hot and clenching around him is too much. He comes with a groan, fucking his way through it. Luckily Mickey is only a few seconds behind him, and Ian is able to fuck them both through their orgasms before collapsing against Mickey's chest.

“Fuck,” Mickey says after half a minute. “That was good.”

“Mmm.” Ian tilts his head up to lazily press kisses against Mickey's jaw. Mickey turns his head to catch Ian's lips in a brief, chaste kiss. Ian rubs their noses together before he forces himself to move, easing out of Mickey and fetching the abandoned towel to clean them up. Once he's done, he drops beside Mickey and pulls the duvet over them, before pretzeling himself around Mickey. “See? Nothin' could quench the burning fire in my loins for you.”

Mickey snorts.

“Whatever you say, firecrotch.”

“I'm serious.”

“So the werewolf thing. That doesn't weird you out at all? You wouldn't rather just have a normal boyfriend-”

“Bor-ring.”

“Who doesn't smell like an animal, and dogs don't follow, and... All the other weird shit.”

“Mickey. It's just a part of you. It's not like I didn't know what I was signing up for. I want all of you. And anyway, it just makes you more special and interesting. I love my werewolf boyfriend. I think you're super cool, and unlike anyone I've ever met, and you know I love wolf you.”

“You have to say that.”

“I don't have to say anything.”

“Yeah, you do, you're my boyfriend.”

Ian groans in frustration. He crawls on top of Mickey and lets himself become a dead weight, pressing his face into Mickey's neck and continuing to groan, long and loud.

“Ian, get off.” Mickey pushes at him, but Ian refuses to move. “Would you fuckin' stop already.”

“Then listen to me. The fact you're my boyfriend enforces my point, it doesn't invalidate it. You're my boyfriend 'cause I love you and I wanna be with you, dumbass.”

“You're the fuckin' dumbass.” Mickey scowls at him. Ian grins in response, pressing a kiss against the unhappy twist of his mouth.

“I wouldn't trade you for anyone, okay? You're awesome. Tell me you're awesome.”

“Ian.”

“Tell me you're awesome or I won't get off you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Tell me you're awesome, or else.” Ian's fingers ghost over the soft, ticklish areas of Mickey's stomach. Mickey jerks beneath him.

“Don't you fuckin' dare.”

Ian does, with great enthusiasm. Mickey kicks and thrashes beneath him, but isn't able to dislodge Ian's weight from on top of him.

“Fine,” he wheezes, breathless with laughter. “I'm fuckin' awesome.”

“Yeah you are.” Ian slides off Mickey, smug and satisfied. He dots kisses over his cheek.

“I hate you,” Mickey says.

“Nah.” Ian smiles. “You don't.”

 


End file.
